Great Pacific Garbage Patch- Poetry

Welcome to Trash Island.
Population Zero.
No life lives here,
Just plastic bags,
Disfigured Barbies,
Melting storybook heroes.

Souls plunge upward,
Toward light and air.
Blocked by leeching death,
And wayward cares.

The stench of rotting goods
Discarded,
Pays homage to what once was.

Since first eyes open,
First impressions burn.
The "more" becomes obsession,
While social status language learned.

This island represents
The slaughter of the land,
The sand, sea and trees,
Of forcing third world children's hands
Slaving away laboriously.

Blood tipped fingernails fray and toil.
Whiplashed backsides for our spoils.
She sold her soul and bought a reflection,
While tear drops drown the cradle's heaven.

The ego of humanity.
The over consumption.
The assumption,
Taking over.
What presumption!

 Power tip pours guilt,
Raining down on time starved masses,
Fearing the shame from a neighbor,
Yet rewarded for passing lower classes.

Thank the corporation.
Thank the politician.
Thank the propaganda,
For instilling the societal dogma
Of this over-indulgent nation.

Spun their web so tight.
Round the eyes of sight.
Bound from the reality of accumulation,
Our oceans forced starvation.
The death will float and bind,
 Revenge of nature we will find.

Peaceful creatures weigh on our shoulders,
Bits of rotting dolphin carcasses
Stuck between plastic coke can holders.
Garbage coalesces into mountainous boulders.

Where land once connected,
Water rose and covered.
Evolution's blind creation
Created hate and neglect to destroy her wonder.

This island is bigger than Texas
And grows by the day.
Exit through the gift shop,
And buy a postcard
To glorify your stay.

Written by Abby Martin and Tyler Florence